


The Seven and the Deadly Sins

by SlayerSlayer (BittersweetParakeet)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lovers To Enemies, Seven Deadly Sins, Strangulation, Valonqar Prophecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BittersweetParakeet/pseuds/SlayerSlayer
Summary: Seven deadly sins, seven aspects of the gods.(Each chapter is unrelated. Tags will be updated as chapters are posted.)





	The Seven and the Deadly Sins

**Author's Note:**

> The Father Above: represents justice and the wisdom to seek it
> 
> Wrath: Vengeance as the consequence of anger

King’s Landing was unusually quiet. The markets were empty, and the streets were completely devoid of life. Perhaps the denizens of the city were afraid. Afraid of the grim Unsullied stationed just outside the walls. Afraid of cockless, foreign slaves who felt no fear and slaughtered babies as part of their training.

Perhaps they were listening. Listening for the blood-chilling war cries of hundreds of Dothraki screamers. Listening for the leathery flapping of dragon wings that would spell their doom.

Cersei was uncharacteristically relaxed, and it made Jaime uneasy. She sat facing the large window that overlooked the city. An omnipresent wine cup was clutched in her skeletal fingers. Jaime noticed that her nails were long, manicured, and claw-like.

“My men stand ready for battle. Just say the word,” he said.

Cersei made no indication that she had heard him. She took a sip of wine. It stained her bloodless lips crimson.

“You should move to a safer part of the keep,” Jaime insisted.

She acknowledged him then. “I am quite safe where I am.” Her tone was mild and conversational. Unsuited for the gravity of the situation. It made the hairs on Jaime’s neck stand at attention.

“If the dragons attack the keep, and it collapses, you may be killed. You could be badly burned.”

Cersei leaned back in her chair and drained her cup. She turned a cheek towards her twin.

“When you stuck your sword through Aerys’s back, did you think you were becoming a hero?” she asked.

Jaime had been asked that more times than he could count over the course of his life. Ned Stark had openly voiced his approval when he marched into the throne room to find the Mad King’s bleeding corpse and Jaime perched on the Iron Throne. Robert had clapped him on the back but had done little to defend him when others spat in his face. No matter what Jaime did, he was the Kingslayer, a dishonorable oathbreaker unfit for the white cloak around his shoulders.

“He was going to burn the city. Every man, woman, and child, gone in a flash of green wildfire,” he replied in justification.

Cersei nodded pensively. It was more an idle movement than satisfaction.

“Would you do it again?”

Jaime tensed. Wherever this conversation was going, it was dangerous.

“Of course.”

Cersei stood up and turned to face him. She placed her cup on the table. She was so terribly beautiful in her severe, black dress and armor-like jewelry.

“The Targaryen girl will do whatever it takes to sit on the Iron Throne,” Cersei began. “I will see that she will have to wade through ash and flame for it.”

It took a moment, but slowly, it dawned on Jaime what that meant. A deafening roar filled his ears, the screams of Rickard Stark as he roasted in his armor. He could hear Aerys’s shrill voice shrieking for his pyromancer, and Rhaella’s sobs as her husband brutalized her. His eyes went so wide that he thought they would roll out of his head and onto the rug. He rose from his seat steadily, his good hand resting on the grip of his sword.

Cersei’s eyes darted momentarily to his hip. She pursed her lips and clasped her hands together.

“I am doing this for our future.” Cersei rested her palms flat on her stomach. “For our child.”

Jaime closed the space between them in one long stride and clutched her shoulders. He shook her wildly, his fingers digging into her flesh. Time slowed to a halt, and his vision became a pinprick in which he could only see his sister.

“Are you mad? You are endangering the lives of a million innocent people!” he hissed.

Cersei’s face twisted into a grotesque grin. Her teeth were very white and very sharp.

“You weren’t here,” she gasped. “You weren’t here to see how beautiful it was to see our enemies burn.”

Jaime released her from his vice-like grip and cracked his golden hand across her jaw. Her head snapped to the side, and a trickle of blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She recovered quickly, and she swiped the blood away with a casual flick of her finger.

“You can’t stop it. As soon as those dragons appear, the pyromancers will light the fires, and everything from Rhaenys’s Hill to Flea Bottom will be gone. We will be safe.”

Jaime seized Cersei again, tackling her to the floor. His hands, gold and flesh, tore at her clothes. He fumbled for the laces of his breeches while keeping her pinned to the floor between his legs. She was sobbing, weeping while her fists beat feebly at his chest.

“Jaime, not now!” she cried, digging her talons through the cloth of his shirt. He disregarded her pleas, and he exhaled sharply when he slid himself into her.

“Why must I love a madwoman?” he grunted as he thrusted violently into her. He felt no pleasure, and he felt no tenderness. He did not even feel the same as he did when he took her in the sept over their son’s cold corpse. He only felt a blind hatred. He wanted to tear Cersei apart and find the golden lioness he had fallen in love with so long ago. He wrapped his good hand around the smooth, cream expanse of her throat and squeezed.

Cersei’s emerald eyes bulged like they would pop out of her face. Her lips stretched, and her tongue flopped like a fat, violet-veined fish. Her last breath rattled from her mouth just as he spilled his seed inside her.

The Kingslayer rolled off her body and looked at what he had done. The imprint of his hand, ugly and swollen, on her white skin suited her better than any necklace he had ever seen her wear.

The valonqar had come for Cersei Lannister.


End file.
